


This little birdie

by Shibakamiko



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cute, Fluff, I'm sure you know where this is going lol, Ignis has aesthetics, M/M, Noctis has a terrible fashion sense, Non-Consensual Tickling, Silly, Socks, Tickling, happens during the Brotherhood period, the holy trinity of a pointless fic XD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21604027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shibakamiko/pseuds/Shibakamiko
Summary: In the everyday life, Ignis had very few causes for complaint about his liege and incidentally boyfriend. Except, maybe just one tiny little thing...Noctis' taste in socks.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 38





	This little birdie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alaska_Lil_Sis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alaska_Lil_Sis/gifts).



> Based on a wonderfully funny idea by Alaska_Lil_Sis: thank you for the inspiration, hun! This is for you! <3  
> ***  
> It's been a while, hi guys, I hope you're doing well? ^^ Life has been complicated again, BUT I'm not giving up, and I can assure you that more writing will be done.   
> Right now chapter two of The Pet-sitter is almost complete, so hopefully you'll see it posted here soon.   
> There's also another on-going tickle fic (because I just can't help myself when it comes to making Noct a giggling mess hahaha I'm sorry -not X)).   
> And I haven't forgotten about A Mask for the Soul, promise! The second chapter has been started a while ago, haven't been able to finish it yet but hope remains that inspiration will pull herself together and help me get back to it.  
> So I'll bid you farewell for now.... until next time!   
> Hope you'll enjoy that little silly thing down there~

In the everyday life, really, Ignis had very few causes for complaint about his liege and – incidentally – boyfriend.  
Oh, Noctis had his flaws, of course, like everyone else. Even if the adviser could be love-struck to the point of proverbial blindness sometimes, he could still admit that. The prince wasn’t necessarily the most hard-working person in this world. He could be incredibly stubborn, picky as a five-years-old kid when it came to food, he might ‘accidentally’ skip royal duties here and there and had a rather complicated relationship with house chores… but that was it. The list ended there. Everything else was just perfection made man, and yes, maybe Ignis wasn’t entirely impartial there, maybe he excused things he shouldn’t, but it had been two years since they started dating now, and he wouldn’t exchange his silly, mischievous, adorable, gentle and downright gorgeous partner for anything in the whole universe.

That being said... he had to moderate all that praising. For just one tiny itty-bitty little thing. A detail really, but a detail that annoyed him to unbearable extends…

Noctis’ taste in socks.

Seriously. Who could imagine the heir to the throne, always clad in royal black, having such ridiculous liking for weird, colorful socks?? No one. Not even Ignis himself could have guessed, before they sort of moved together – and by that, read: the older of the two finding every excuse, from dusting to cooking, to spend as much time as he could in Noctis’ apartment. The initial shock had come when running the first laundry washing at the prince’s place, and fishing out of the machine these… atrocious grey socks adorned with Li’l Malbuddy, the cartoonish Malboro. A moment of perplexity had followed. Then another one of denial – because obviously Noctis couldn’t have such terrible tastes, right? Then yet another moment, of horrified acceptation, when he presented the _corpus delicti_ to its owner and the prince just shrugged and grinned, saying it was cute.

Cute! Peculiar, yes, but cute?? That was _not_ the kind of adjective Ignis would have used in that particular situation.

And it only went downhill from there. Not only did Noctis keep buying more of these things, but his best friend Prompto made it a personal duty to jazz up the collection with any new pair he could find, whether it be for Christmas, birthdays, or any other occasion he could think of. And every addition to the lot since then had seemed to be an even greater offense to fashion. There were blue ones with tiny cactuars… purple ones with one giant waving moogle… green ones with – _the height of disgust!_ – a smiling Kenny Crow…  
They had to be doing it on purpose, Ignis thought. Just to test his limits. No one, absolutely no one could stumble upon these monstrosities unless they actively searched for them, he was sure of that.  
All of his attempts at talking some sense of style into Noctis’ head had bore no fruit though. If anything, it made things _worse_ every time he opened his mouth to protest. Thus, after some time, he decided to suck it up and keep quiet.

… And so, even in an empty apartment, he didn’t make one single comment as he neatly but angrily folded today’s freshly washed socks. Chibi-styled behemoths running on rainbows. Rainbows! And behemoths! Who the hell ever imagined this would make a good combination?? They had nothing in common, it went against every ounce of logic in the world!  
Maybe he should propose an amendment at the next council meeting. A new law against this kind of horrors. These evil sock-makers would be legally condemned, there would be socks auto-da-fe all around Lucis, where he could _casually_ throw Noctis’ personal collection into the nearest fire, and…  
… Ok, his imagination might be running a bit too wild there. But, no kidding, he really considered the option for a second.

The sound of the front door suddenly closing came as a pleasant interruption, at least, to his inner cursing and ranting. Abandoning the laundry on the table, he turned around, a smile on his face, to greet the love of his life.

“Good evening, Noct. How was school, did you-”

His sentence ended there. With a quiet, outraged gasp. As soon as his eyes caught sight of what new cotton-made absurdity his prince was wearing…  
Multicolored socks. With small, sombrero-wearing chocobos dancing all over them.

Alright.

Fine.

Fantastic.

… this was the _freaking last straw_.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum!” Yes, he did get the full name out, for a more dramatic effect. Placing his hands on his hips, too, in full scolding mode. “You _cannot_ be wearing these!”

Noctis’ face offered a perfect look of feigned ignorance. He paused, just at the entrance of the main room, head tilted sideways.

“These what?” Then a small, playful, _exasperatingly cute_ grin began growing on his lips. “Oooh. You mean…” Slowly, nonchalantly, he stretched one foot forward. Showing off the, from Ignis’ perspective, utterly hideous piece of clothing. “ _These_?”

Yes. No doubt now. The brat _was_ doing this on purpose.

“These, precisely!” Ignis glared at the things, as if the intensity of said glare could disintegrate the fabric. It didn’t work. Sadly. “Look, I have nothing against you expressing your individuality in any way you see fit. But _this_? This… this is nonsense! No one in their right mind would willingly wear that! It should be considered a major crime against humanity!”

That dubious argument had no effect, as always. It only made Noctis grin wider, looking, more than ever, very pleased with himself.

“I come in a package, Specs.” he countered. “Me, _and_ these socks. It’s a ‘take it or leave it’ offer.”

Ugh, that little…! _Ok, calm down, breathe… He’s trying to get under your skin, nothing more._ And Ignis might be only twenty, but he deemed himself mature enough not to let his younger boyfriend call the tune.

“Fine…” That little concession came out in a sigh, yet he managed to erase all trace of displeasure from his attitude, as he looked up into Noctis’ eyes and smiled. “Do I at least get a homecoming kiss?”

Hah. A small victory. Noctis’ teasing façade seemed to melt into a pout for a brief second… before he shrugged, and closed the distance between them. Grabbing Ignis by the tie.

“You may… but just ‘cause you’re sexy when you’re mad.”

A tug on that tie was all it took to bring their lips together. Gently at first, then more passionately, when Ignis’ fingers slipped on the prince’s nape and brought him closer still. A little tongue action… teeth softly pulling at a lower lip… that was all it took for Noctis to nearly slump in his adviser’s arms, knees weak and trembling.  
Ah, the perks of puberty…

“Get comfortable.” Ignis’ voice was a mere whisper, echoing directly into his liege’s gaping mouth. “I’ll have dinner ready in a minute.”  
“Ah… y-yeah. Ok. Great.”

Six, how satisfying it felt, to reduce Noctis to a wordless state. That didn’t happen often enough.  
As he watched the teen turn around and wander off to his bedroom, Ignis couldn’t hide a smirk. Point taken. 0-1 for him. Now, to really work on dinner…  
And, more important: erase the scarring memory of these awful socks from his mind.

He thought that would be the end of it. After that brief teasing, for a moment, nothing else happened. Noctis kept his horrendous socks on, of course, but he wasn’t making a show of it, and all in all, with a bit of self-control, Ignis could ignore them and focus on the rest of his otherwise lovely boyfriend.

But. That was forgetting just how much of a little shit Noctis could be when he decided to.

By the time they were sitting down around the table, in a pleasant, loving peace of soft words and brushing hands, Ignis had let his guard down entirely. Dinner progressed just as planned if not better; his Garula joint, directly imported from the plains of Duscae, got an enthusiastic reception from the prince, just as much as the roasted potatoes that went with it. They were just about to move onto dessert, a fresh orange cake Ignis acquired earlier that day at one of the most renowned bakery in town (when he didn’t cook himself, he would only settle for the best, nothing below that level)… when it happened.

It wasn’t much. Just the brushing of Noctis’ socked foot against his own at first. Then up his leg. Then straight to his lap. Green eyes slowly, very slowly looked down from the plate to that foot nonchalantly resting on his knee… and yes, that was it, the sight of that terrible fabric had just ruined his appetite. Marvelous.

“Noctis…” he began, tone threatening.  
“Hmm?” On the other side of the table, his personal little devil picked up another piece of cake with his fork, and took his sweet time savoring it before gracing him with a smile. “What? I thought you’d appreciate some contact. Since, you know, we’ve been apart all day?”

Ignis’ eyebrow twitched. Ooooh no, he wasn’t trying to strike an emotional chord there, was he? _Was he??_  
 _Do not get mad… do not... he’d be way too happy…_

“I’d appreciate it more if the sight didn’t include _stupidly prancing birds_.”

And with that, he promptly expelled that foot from his lap with an irritated jerk of the leg.  
That reply, along with the gesture, made Noctis snort.

“And that’s precisely why you’re no fun.”

Well, he could deal with the lack of fun if it meant preserving his aesthetics, thank you.

He half expected the prince, well-known for his obstinacy, to follow up immediately with a second attempt… but, oh pleasing surprise, dessert ended in a most serene atmosphere. With only the delicate clinking of cutlery on the porcelain plates and a typical conversation about Noctis’ upcoming exams. Precisely the kind of atmospheres Ignis lived for. There, all was of pristine order and tranquility. It made him feel like everything in the world had found its rightful place. As if horrendous socks were never invented.  
A moment of grace.

Which lasted until he had cleared the table, placed the dishes in the sink, stored the leftovers into the fridge for tomorrow, and went to get some well-deserved rest on the couch next to his darling prince. Television broadcasted a generic action movie tonight; nothing intellectually exhausting, just car chases and gun fires, but somehow Ignis didn’t mind. They could cuddle, in front of that kind of movie. They could even fall asleep there and not regret any missed second. After a busy day, one could only appreciate such luxury.

And Ignis did appreciate it, thoroughly, until Noctis began shifting next to him. A gesture he thought nothing of at first. Sometimes the younger man just liked to sprawl on the cushions. Any second now, he would place his head on the other’s lap, slowly drifting off to sleep while Ignis’ fingers play with his hair – another one of these little moments of happiness the adviser was quite fond of – and…

… wait… that wasn’t his head, was it.

He had to grit his teeth not to yell when he looked down and, guess what? _The goddamned socks had returned._

“ _Again_ with that?!” he sighed, loudly, shooting his royal lover a murderous glare.

Which only brought an even more obvious look of self-sufficiency on Noctis’ face.

“I’m just getting comfy! Whatcha gonna do about that, sue me?”

No, no he wouldn’t. The court would never accept a complaint of that kind; how could he even word it, ‘assault against good taste’? ‘Psychological torture through forceful sock-showing’? Not an option.  
But, as they were now, Ignis couldn’t shake these teasing feet off him the way he did earlier. Either he endured it, ignored it the best he could… or he would have to leave the couch. And say adios to the cuddles. Neither choice sounded very appealing.

 _Or…  
_ Wait… maybe he could go with a third option?  
Instinctively, his eyes traveled back from his smirking prince’s face to these intruding feet in his lap. He had to take upon himself _a lot_ , but this time, he tried thinking beyond that nightmare-inducing fabric. There was something more than horrible socks, to these extremities currently pestering him… a little secret few people knew about… a secret that was both really cute from Ignis’ perspective, and an utter embarrassment from Noctis’…

A secret of the _ticklish_ kind.

Yes. The one and only King of Kings was ticklish. Extremely so, if one wanted to be extra precise with that information. Yet another thing about him no one could ever have guessed – and with good reasons, because how could someone so important, so strong, capable of wielding swords as big as him and warping up the tallest buildings in one go… be, at the same time, so ridiculously sensitive to the lightest of touches? Another peculiarity for sure, but this one Ignis would never grow tired of.

Nor would he ever stop exploiting it… especially when the little brat so deliberately asked for it.

“Actually…” he began, on a conversational tone, “I think these socks are actually trying to tell me something.”  
“Yeah? That your saaad, boooring life lacks some glitter and sparkles?” Poor boy, he didn’t know what was coming… Either he had momentarily forgotten about his biggest weakness, or he imagined his adviser wouldn’t dare using such a low blow. _Surprise surprise, dear Noctis…  
_ “No…” Ignis replied, with a disarmingly charming smile. Completely above suspicion. “They tell me exactly… where to tickle you~”

And before any protestations could rise, he captured the prince’s ankles in an armlock. And his free hand began delicately scratching at one of the drawn chocobos.

Oh, the squeak it brought from Noctis’ side… laced with shock and… was it a hint of regret he sensed there? A little too late, alas. Ignis’ mind was set now and nothing could change it. Revenge _and_ punishment, served on a single silver plate? No way he would pass on that.

“Aaha n-no, Iggy nohoooo…!”

The feet in his grasp twisted and turned, trying to escape. But Ignis expected as much; in two years he learnt a lot about his younger boyfriend, and more importantly, learnt how to anticipate his reactions. Thus, the hold was slack enough not to become uncomfortable, yet at the same time, tight enough so as to keep him perfectly trapped. And he had to admit… as much as he hated these socks, they played his game there. With the slightly rough, cheap material they were made off, no way Noctis could ever slip away no matter how hard he wanted to. It was naturally skid-proof.

_Well… I guess I can at least give them credit for that._

“No? Why no?” Ignis feigned shock, fine eyebrows theatrically raised. “This little birdie reveals such a nice spot though? Just there, above your heels… I can’t just to ignore its invitation now can I?”

His fingers didn’t stop nor pause. Only two were in motion but they kept going, meticulously, over that same spot over and over again. One… Two… One… Two… Moving just a tiny bit on the left, or on the right, or higher, or lower. Switching from one sole to the other when Noctis tried, fruitlessly, to cover one foot with its counterpart. Incidentally, the ridiculous pattern had a certain regularity to it; both socks were absolutely identical. Which meant, similarly placed birds got similar reactions.  
Something quite practical, Ignis had to admit.

On the royal’s side, muffled sounds of whimpers and giggles, along with hands banging on the couch, had replaced the initial shout of surprise. An adorable attempt at saving some of his dignity… albeit a useless one. In the end, it was a matter of time before the laughter bubbling in his chest would find a way out. The battle there relied entirely on will and patience. Both things Noctis lacked…  
And both things Ignis had in gods-like amounts.

“The silent treatment now? Oh Noct, Noct, Noct… we both know you never stay quiet for long. Let’s try another birdie, shall we?”

The drawn-out, panicky whimper he got at that made him grin so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt. He knew the saying about revenge tasting sweet, but never did he imagine it would taste _that_ sweet.

“Like…. this one, for example?” Fingertips merely grazed the spot, once, in the middle of the arch this time, yet he could _feel_ Noctis’ whole body shudder behind him. Ooohoo, this one promised a lot of fun… “What a good little chocobo, finding such a niiiice spot for me to explore… you love it there, don’t you kitten?”  
“Ah… ah noho, I-I don… I dohon… I don’t, not at ahall…!!”

Ah, at least that seemed to give Noctis his voice back. Which was precisely what Ignis had been patiently waiting for. That brief moment of tensed pause, where his naïve prince would attempt to protest, maybe try slipping a plea or two… letting his guard down for, what, a couple seconds? More than enough for a trained tactician to take full advantage of…  
And send all five fingers moving, probing, dancing a mad jig over the obviously sensitive area.

There was absolutely no way Noctis could have shut his mouth close again fast enough.

“AaahAHAHAHA w-whahat the fuhuhu- _AACK!_ I-Iggy sehe… seriouslyhyhyyyy!!”

Now he _knew_ he was really in for it, and it showed; his legs pulled harder than ever to slip free, with just as much results as before – basically: none. His feet curled up, flexed back, twisted here and there, to no avail; anywhere he went, Ignis only had to calmly, precisely follow, gracing both identical birds with the same meticulous attention. At one point he could have sworn Noctis made an attempt to sit up and grab him by the shirt... only to fall back down, cursing through ticklish squeals. Years of training with Gladio made little difference; he could get steel-like abdominal muscles, it would never help him win against his number one weakness. Some things you just couldn’t fight against.

His efforts were cute though. Futile, but cute. That only made Ignis even more determined to tease him out of his mind.

“But I _am_ extremely serious here, Noctis? I’m seriously tickling you.” he stated, matter-of-factly. “Ah, perhaps you’d prefer if we switched to another spot? Is that it? You can just ask, you know?”

Of course, Noctis was in no shape to ask anything, considering he couldn’t even formulate half of a full sentence without the words twisting into a giggly spluttering. But, that was also part of the game, wasn’t it?

“Hmmm where to go then… ah, your insteps maybe?” Another whimpering protest rose from the main interested party, but Ignis dutifully ignored it. “We have… oh, two little birdies there. One heeere…”

Leaving the arches, his fingers went to pay a teasing visit to the aforementioned spot, close to the heels. The nails scratching there seemed to be petting the tiny drawn chocobo, and Ignis just had to chuckle to himself when the way Noctis’ foot waggled then made the bird dance under that touch. As if appreciating the attention. The actual beneficiary of said petting though didn’t look much happy with it: his voice all but skipped an octave, turning to a higher, velvety pitch.

Ah, yes… Ignis almost forgot, how much of a perfection Noctis’ laughter could be. Now that he thought about it, it hadn’t change since childhood… always so bright, always so rich in texture, so unbearably adorable… It reminded him of that small boy he met, over a decade ago. That shy, round face peeking from behind the king’s leg. That tiny hand shaking Ignis’. Oh, how far they journeyed together since that time… yet some things stayed the same. The prince’s sensitivity was one of these things.   
The fact that Ignis _loved_ tickling him was another.

“And one more birdie heeere…”

Unfazed, the touch migrated to the other bird higher up, nearing the balls of these shaking feet, and started the torment anew. Then Ignis’ hand began randomly hopping from one spot to the other, from the first foot to the second, and back again and again…

“My my, both birds on a ticklish spot? Goodness, kitten, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re basically ticklish everywhere!”

Which he was, really. And Ignis knew it. Teasing the poor boy like this couldn’t be called fair play… but did fair play even matter, after everything the adviser went through? After all these eyes-burningly ugly _things_ he had to wash and fold and see on his own boyfriend every damn day? No. No, he couldn’t care less about being fair or not now. In a way, it was between these socks and him, and the royal heir’s sensitive extremities just so happened to be caught in the crossfire.

“Ig-IgnihihihEEEEP!” Speaking of which, Noctis shrieked out loud when his boyfriend’s fingers decided to play a game of ‘connect the dots’ between each little bird scattered around his toes. “Nahahaho n-not the tohohoes, not t-there, _not thehehere…!_ ”

Oooh yes the toes, always such a weak spot for the future king… to which the fact that a simple line, traced over the digits, could bring out such a strong reaction even through the fabric, made for an obvious testimony. And a very good reason for Ignis to _adore_ exploiting that precise spot.

“Gods, Noctis… Here I am, trying to get interested in your particular socks for once, and you _complain_ about it? I thought for sure you’d be happy?”

All five fingers made a spider-like motion beneath the toes, just to punctuate these words, and sure enough, Noctis arched his back, squeaking and wiggling the digits.

“AAAAHahaha’d be happy if you wehe… weren’t _torturing me at the same tihihime!_ ”

“Ah, but you see, that’s the whole idea, your highness.” Turning to look at his beloved, Ignis offered him a deamonish smirk. “It’s a… how did you word it again? A package. A ‘take it or leave it’ offer, wasn’t it what you said? Well, if I get you _and_ the socks… you get me _and_ the tickling.”

Oh, the look on the prince’s face at that… nothing in the whole world would have been half as good. Ignis would never have guessed someone could both pale and blush a deep crimson at the same time, but somehow Noctis achieved the feat, and it had the definitely very, very sweet taste of _victory_.

“ _Okay!_ Okahahahay I-I’m sorry!!” There was no point in resisting anymore. As obstinate as Noctis could be, he knew how to recognize defeat when he saw it. “I-I’ll remove the sohocks! Promise!! Just stohohohop!”

These words… how Ignis had longed for them! He could rejoice. Feel blessed by the god of socks, if the pantheon ever had one. But… at the same time, his strategical mind didn’t want to stop there. After all, Noctis did accept to get rid of the one he wore… but what about the rest? The dozens of atrocities filling the bedroom, and that felt like a personal insult to Ignis every time he opened a drawer? Hm? What about them indeed…?  
He remembered reading an interesting quote, once, in an old philosophy book. ‘Why celebrate victory for a single battle, when you can win the entire war’. Ignis was a man of sayings. And he couldn’t help but think, this one here fit the situation quite too well not to put it into practice…

His fingers had stopped, on reflex, when Noctis asked. Now they journeyed up… to the boy’s ankles… idly, innocently, playing with the elastic hems of these socks…

“Oh, don’t bother removing them, darling.” The smile on his face aimed to look reassuring. It failed. “It’d be _my pleasure_ to get them off for you…”

By monitoring Noctis’ expression close enough, one could have perfectly pinpointed the moment these words stirred a primitive self-preservation instinct in the back of his mind. _Coincidentally_ , it matched with the moment Ignis all but ripped the socks off him, baring his feet. There was a brief second, when everything seemed to go in slow-motion… the prince’s eyes widening in horrified realization… his adviser’s smile curving into something of the wicked kind… In that second, that very short second, Ignis _knew_ he was going to win that war. But. Where would the fun have been, had he simply let go now.

“N-no, oh gods nononono Specs nooo _AHAHAHAHA…!!_ ”

Maybe Noctis was right. Maybe he needed the ‘glitter and sparkles’ in his life. And the thing was, nothing glittered and sparkled more, for him, than his precious prince laughing his pretty head off.

His personal little happy therapy lasted for several more minutes, of gentle fingertips running over bare soles, of fiendish nails clawing softly at the balls, of sneaky fingers seeking delicate webs of skin between unprotected toes… Noctis was spared none of it. His screeches and snorts and guffaws echoing in the apartment, until he had thrown practically every pillow on the couch in his adviser’s general direction, and finally, finally managed to wheeze out a promise of complete surrender.

 _Now_ , Ignis accepted that it was time to stop.

That single tickling hand slowed down its movements. Turning them to soft, soothing caresses, a thumb rubbing deep into the twitching muscles as a peace offering of a sort. Turning his head to look at his beloved prince, Ignis had to bite back a coo at the sight. At one point during the last, probably hellish moments, Noctis had rolled to the side, and now laid curled up in a ball in the corner between the back of the couch and its armrest. Clutching the last remaining pillow, and letting it swallow the residual giggles still escaping his control. From what could be seen of his face, below a mess of black hair, Ignis knew he was beet red. And his eyes… these beautiful, clear blue eyes of his… not as angry as he would have thought, but more… lively? Shining? Mirthful?

_Oh, my kitten…_

A light chuckle passed his lips, Ignis finding himself smiling in sheer adoration. Even tickled to a mess, Noctis still managed to look like a _beautiful_ mess. How was that even possible… he had to wonder. How, how could someone so perfect exist in his life.

_If it wasn’t for these socks…_

Really though? Did he still mean that? Curiously, he glanced at the discarded pieces of clothing on the floor, and to his utmost surprise, all that deep, passionate rage he had felt at first seemed to have melted away… as if cleansed, washed away by every laugh and silly noise his prince had produced.

Maybe that was what it meant, to love unconditionally… accepting the other’s defaults, no matter how big they seemed to be. Because the rest compensated it so easily.

Releasing his boyfriend’s ankles, Ignis crawled his way up to him, and with careful gestures, peeled the pillow away from that flushed face. Cupping the boy’s chin and lifting his head, just enough, for a tender kiss.  
These lips, that panting breath, felt so pleasantly warm, mingling with his…

“You know, Noct…” he began, when they finally pulled apart. “All things considered…” and picking up the socks, he placed them in a baffled prince’s hands, smiling, “I think I don’t hate these all that much.”


End file.
